Prelude
by Love Gordon
Summary: The Mysteries of Lawndale are seen in a new light... or should we say a new darkness?
1. Observations On The Effect Of Sunlight

            **Observations on the Effects of Sunlight** by Love Gordon

Sunlight doesn't kill vampires, you know. It just makes us really sleepy. It's hard to drive, too. If Janey wasn't around, it probably wouldn't be safe to take to the road, you know? But my car has taken as much damage as it can take; it can't disintegrate anymore. So I'm not too concerned.

            They say older vampires don't have this problem. I don't know, myself. The only vampire I've ever met died shortly after my entrance into her world. It's not like vampires can't die- it's just really, really hard to kill them. Us. My brain still hasn't quite wrapped around that yet.

            Actually, my personal "don't do drugs" cautionary tale is also her tale. I didn't know her well. Her name was Rachel or something; I was eighteen, met her at a club, she took me to her hotel room, and I learned that it's not a good idea to share needles with a vampire.

            We both died. See, I became a vampire, and she became a lifeless thing on the floor. Even vampires can be killed by heroin, if the concentration is strong enough. It was, apparently, strong enough to kill her. Maybe she was a young vampire; I don't know, and perhaps I never will. 

            I've never drunk enough blood to kill someone. I take little sips every night from the drunken revelers at the Zen or McGrundy's. They're passed out, they don't notice a thing. A little, little bit of blood is all I need. I estimate that I drink about an ounce each night, not much at all. I've promised myself never to hurt anyone badly, but it's not as if I ever need fear being _that_ thirsty. Or so I hope.

            "Trent! Look who's here!"

            Uh oh. My sister's calling me. I've gotta go.


	2. Her Kind

**Her Kind** by Love Gordon

She knew what he was. She'd seen enough of them, over the hundreds of years that she'd traveled the globe, in search of them. Of course, her family, who she was with again, after an absence of nearly sixty years, would prefer that she'd stayed with them, done her duty to her kind. _Well, screw that!_ she thought, as she looked at him, driving the car. The urge to kill his kind that had been so prevalent with other witches, including those in her own family, had skipped her completely. She had no desire to kill, only to know, to find out what made them tick, why the smooth taste of blood on their lips was so satisfying to them that they killed for it.

Yes, Daria had always longed to know about the vampires that her mother would have killed had she the strength, or the brains. They had all been changed on the eve of her nineteenth birthday, on November 23, 1295, in the small English village where they'd lived, by an old woman's spell that had transformed them against their wishes. Daria was possibly the strongest witch on the planet. Her appearance, even unaltered magically, enabled her to pass as teacher or student, parent or child, with the slightest application of make-up. The coveted power she had enabled her to wipe out the US on a whim, if she chose.

Oddly enough, her parents and sister were never in the least able to so much as turn the pages of book magically. The only thing the spell had done to them was prolong their lives. They'd already hated vampires. If Daria's family had been equipped with the power she had, they'd have wiped the world clean of them. Without a pang of guilt.

Even before she'd met him, Daria had never had any fear or dislike of vampires. But she had felt no special kinship or friendship towards them. Vampires were just interesting test subjects, the emotional distance between she and her current lab rat a chasm too deep to be breached.

Now she had only to look at those delicately pointed fangs, that pale skin, the rumpled black hair, and a jolt of – _desire? love? adoration? _She didn't know – shot through her. _No_, she thought, _don't hide behind those words. It's true, I love him. A witch, in love with Trent Lane._

_I, Daria Morgendorffer, am in love with a vampire._


	3. A Traitor To The Line

A Traitor to the Line by Love Gordon

**A Traitor to the Line** by Love Gordon

My elder sister is a traitor.

No, you wouldn't think that to look at her. She's studious, bright. Powerful. Oh, she is very, very powerful. But in her fondness for this – this – _vampire_, she is betraying all her loyalty to our kind.

I'm not strong. In fact, I'm far weaker than she is, as power goes. But I'm stronger than Mom or Dad, and that has to say something, right? I'm stronger than she knows. I have to stop.

My name is Quinn. When I became a witch, I was a few months shy of seventeen. I've always been called Quinn. My last name has changed from time to time; I no longer remember what it originally was. If I had my way, I would be the strongest witch. I would be no traitor to the line. But there are more than thirty stronger than me, though weaker than Daria, my sister.

So I wait patiently, crusading for fashion, one thing I truly love. I navigate the ins and outs of social occasions and popularity. It's amusing. But when I come to power- and I may wait millennia- I will restore my family's honor to full glory.

I will kill all the vampires. Slowly, painfully, one by one.


End file.
